


Val Royeaux in the Fall, Part 2

by RunawayDragons



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dragon Age AU, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27770749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayDragons/pseuds/RunawayDragons
Summary: A continuation of my Dragon Age AU featuring Persephone, Dorian, The Iron Bull, and others.Persephone and Bull are just starting to think about defining their relationship, when her family forces their way back into her life, turning her world upside down.
Relationships: Fenris/Female Hawke, The Iron Bull/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), The Iron Bull/Trevelyan (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

“Nes, I’m at a crossroads, tell me what to do.” Pleads Persephone from across the counter at her work. Nesithra doesn’t answer right away, her nimble fingers taking up all her attention as she finishes casting off her latest piece of knitted heaven. Persephone loves to watch her friend when she knits, it’s always oddly soothing, the steady clack-clack of ironwood needles accompanied by the soft sound of halla yarn being woven into creations that are both functional and beautiful. 

The morning sun cuts through the big windows at the front of the cafe and bookshop, illuminating Nesithra’s face, and making her vallaslin stand out more than usual, the arching lines representing Ghilan'nain catching the light. Nes’ deep brown hair is swept up into a messy bun, her bright green eyes intent on her craft as she deftly uses a large bone needle to weave in the remaining tail of yarn. Once her task is complete, Nes stretches in her seat and then offers Persephone a thoughtful expression before speaking. 

“You know better than to ask me to make your decisions for you. I’m happy to give you advice, but only you can know what is going to be best for you.” Nes says, tone making it clear that she offers love and support, but refuses to give Persephone an easy way out of her dilemma. 

Persephone groans, and lets her head fall to the counter. Thursdays are usually quiet days at Merrill’s Marvelous Tomes & Tea Shoppe, but today was extremely quiet, which left Persephone with too much time to think. Nesithra stopping by for a visit had been a Maker-sent distraction, but then her friend had asked about the job offer and sent Persephone into another spiral of indecision and anxiety. 

Persephone had worked hard to become an Enchanter, but after cutting ties with her parents, the job offers she’d had lined up had disappeared into the fade. Years ago, Ash had warned her that choosing the field of Mage History would make it tough to find a job in her field, especially when her thesis had been on how most of modern magic could be traced back to the Elvhenan and Arlathan, which had caused great outcry among her fellow mages who were devote Chantry followers. She was a black sheep in the Circle, and if not for her family name and connections, she’d probably have been driven out of the place. So severing those family ties, while good for her mental health, had been awful for her career. 

But then last week she’d gotten an email from Varric Tethras, he had remembered her need for a job, and had an opening at his magazine, the Free Marches Fortnightly, it would just be fact checking at first, but once she polished up her writing to his standards, he wanted her to actually write about things, important magic related things. It wasn’t the job she’d dreamed of, but it still excited her, plus getting to see Varric more often would be a nice bonus. It was promising and enticing, but she couldn’t shake the doubt and anxiety whispering that if she lept at this chance, she’d be giving up on all the hard work she’d done before moving to Val Royeaux. Not a very logical train of thought, she knew, but still it nagged at her. 

“Seph, you’re spiraling…” Says Nesithra, her voice dragging Persephone’s mind back to the present. 

Nesithra stuffs her finished work, and supplies, into the messenger bag that had been hanging off the back of her chair, and then walks over to the counter. Nesithra stares at Persephone until she raises herself up off the counter, and quirks a disapproving eyeball as Persephone groans a complaint. 

“Ugh. I don’t want to make my own decisions…”

Nesithra snorts and folds her arms over her chest in response.

“Andraste’s ass! Fine! I’ll email him back when I’m done here.” Persephone concedes, a little petulantly. 

“Good. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Nes teases, an impish light in her eyes. 

Persephone blows a raspberry at her friend, but her eyes betray her, resigned amusement noticeable. 

“Oh grow up. How about I change the subject? How’s the boyfriend doing?” Asks Nesithra.

Persephone’s cheeks immediately flush, in response. 

“He’s not my boyfriend… we have not had that talk yet. He has been away for work a lot, but he calls when he can, and we text.”

Before Persephone can continue, a small group of customers come in, causing a welcome interruption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my head cannon that Dorian dresses casually a lot like David Rose from Schitt's Creek in this AU world. Persephone is a lot more casual, and probably dresses more like Stevie than I'd like, at the very least it's bulky sweaters and athletic leggings when she works from home. ^_^;;


	2. Chapter 2

“Sparks, you either need to read those, or burn them.” Dorian says, clad in his favorite pajamas while gesturing with a hand at the pile of very expensive looking correspondence on the corner of their kitchen island. His other hand holds one of the day old pastries from the cafe, the crumbs from it stuck in his mustache. 

Persephone looks up from her laptop and makes eye contact just long enough to note the crumbs, before returning back to her work.

“If you care about them so much, they’re yours, do with them what you will. I am still upset she got our address so quickly.”

Dorian finishes the last bite of his breakfast, carefully cleans his face with a napkin, and then begins opening the pile of letters she has been avoiding. The stationary is top notch, thick and soft, the kind only the older generation of nobles use anymore (mostly because they don’t like modern communication). Persephone continues her work, which she has been enjoying more than she’d expected over the past couple of weeks. So far Varric had been more than happy with her performance, and had even included a bonus in her first paycheck. Further financial security, and the text message she’d gotten from Krem that morning, telling her that Bull should be back sometime in the next 24hrs, had been a lovely way to start the weekend. 

Dorian is very quiet as he reads through the letters, at first he’d has an amused smile on his face, but by the third letter the smile has fallen away to be replaced by the same expression he often had while reading contract negotiation emails from his work. It’s that stillness that tips Persephone off that something isn’t right. When she finally looks up, Persephone sees that Dorian’s brows are furrowed, a letter still in his left hand, while he looks at something on his phone that is held in his right hand. She instinctively doesn’t like this, the tension in her best friend’s shoulders causing a wave of anxiety to wash over her. 

“Bones?” 

Persephone lets her nickname for Dorian leave her lips, the single word conveying her worry and need to know what is concerning him so. 

Dorian carefully puts the letter and his phone down, taking a moment for a deep breath and to rub at his temples, before making eye contact with her. His steel grey eyes soften in concern as he starts talking.

“Sparks, it’s not good. I’m sorry.”

He carefully hands her the last two letters, Persephone starts reading them immediately. Her mother’s handwriting is impeccable as usual, and once she gets past the first few paragraphs of guilt and gaslighting, she finds something that sends her anxiety into overdrive, causing her stomach to twist and clench. As she reads the second letter, Dorian moves around the island to stand next to her, his arm laid across her shoulders in support. Persephone reaches up her free hand and squeezes his in appreciation, as horror at her situation dawns on her. 

“You already checked on your phone… she’s already published the announcement?” Persephone asks far too calmly.

“She has, in three different places, but not here, yet.” Dorian replies. 

Persephone stands, and lets Dorian pull her into a tight hug. She can feel the tightness in her belly be replaced by heat, as tears leak from her eyes and soak into Dorian’s silk pajamas. 

“What can I do, Sparks?” 

Persephone lifts her head off Dorian’s shoulder and steps back, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her caramel eyes burn hot with an anger that only her parents’ have been able to make her feel, Dorian knows that feeling well, having his own problems with how his power grabbing parents have treated him. 

“I know you’d help me hide her body, but I don’t think murdering her is going to get me out of this.” She answers, a wry smile accompanying her words. 

“Alas, I think you’re right about that. I did email Mera Hawke, however, if anyone can find a loophole, it would be her.” 

Persephone offers Dorian a thankful smile, and then groans loudly, venting some of her frustration, before speaking. 

“Well then, I’m going to shower, and try to rinse off this feeling of impending doom…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, Persephone's childhood isn't really any different than in her canon state. If you want some insight, please check out "The Life and Adventures of Persephone Trevelyan".  
> (I may have channeled some of my own experiences with growing up with a toxic narcissist for a parent.)


	3. Chapter 3

Mera Hawke comes through in a big way, managing to have a copy of the contract messengered over by the time they’re finished with lunch. She promises to have an in depth look at the contract as soon as she’s back in the office on Monday, making her apologies via text for not being available sooner, as she and Fenris are currently on the road. The accompanying blurry selfie of Mera, with the frustrated looking tattooed elf at the wheel of their rented vehicle, reminds Persephone how grateful she is for the friends she has. 

They’re about halfway through the 300 page contract when a knock at their door interrupts them. Persephone gets up from the couch automatically, straightening her sweater absently as she opens the door. The Iron Bull smiles down at her, a to-go tray of hot drinks held in one hand. Persephone smiles back at him, clearly overjoyed at his return, but then her face falls and she lets out a choked sob as she accepts the offered beverages and heads towards the kitchen island. Bull follows her inside, and casts a questioning look at Dorian, who is still on the couch, a sheaf of papers in his hand. Dorian gives Bull a subtle head shake and grimace, wordlessly conveying that things are bad and that it isn’t Bull’s fault. 

Persephone busies herself in the kitchen, reheating everyone’s beverages, and decanting them into mugs she prewarmed with hot water. She deposits Dorian’s coffee on the coffee table next to the couch, and then brings Bull his hot chocolate topped with fresh marshmallows she keeps in her cabinet just for when he visits. Every time she starts to make eye contact with Bull, her eyes shy away, as if the sight of him hurts her deeply. Bull watches Persephone as she sips at her tea, her shoulders tense with the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. He doesn’t like seeing her this way, and the urge to comfort her brings him to stand in front of her, arms open and inviting. She puts her tea down and almost throws herself into his embrace, where she immediately starts to sob, her face buried into his chest, tears soaking his shirt. Bull holds her closely, resting his chin on top of her head, her unruly red hair soft against his face.

After-what feels like an eternity-later, but is probably only a few minutes, she takes a shuddering sigh and gets on her tiptoes to kiss the edge of his jaw. Any remaining tears are removed by a swipe of her sleeve, as she moves away, and regains her composure. She pulls Bull over to the other end of the couch and makes him sit down, leaving for a moment to grab his drink and bring it back to him. Tea in her hands once more, she perches on the edge of the coffee table so she can face him, her expression a carefully crafted mask of calm.

“Bull, I….” She starts, but quickly loses her words, her usual confident manner swept away by the emotions she’s been trying not to drown in since that morning. Bull leans forward and offers his hands to hold, she hesitates a moment, and then takes them, her face softening as he squeezes her hands gently in reassurance.

“I know I’ve told you about my parents, and some of my history. How I’m the family embarrassment, and that when I cut all ties, they reacted badly. My mother has been reaching out, trying to reconnect, and I haven’t responded. And as is typical for her, when she doesn’t get what she wants from someone, she punishes them…” 

Persephone pauses to take a deep breath, and then continues, hands still firmly clasped by Bull’s. 

“My mother has apparently arranged a marriage for me, in a legally binding contract. Apparently she’d started it when I was a child, but when she found out about my magic had decided not to enact it, until now, that is.

She’s announced it in three major publications, and sent me a letter that alludes to the fact that if I try to run away, she’ll sue me for breach of contract, thus stripping me of every copper I've earned, as well destroy any shred of good reputation I’ve built for myself. She also inferred she’d go after Dorian as well...”

Bull takes a moment, letting everything she’s said filter through his mind, now understanding her behavior, and more, with this added context. He squeezes her hands again, and offers her a wry smile. 

“Well, that’s a lot.” He says, honestly. 

“Oh, Bull, it is, I’m so sorry, but I promised myself I’d always be honest with you. And I totally get it if this all too much for you, and you need to take some time…. I… You didn’t sign on for this, so I will understand if you just want to call, whatever we are, quits.” Persephone says, words coming out in a tumble, but her chin raised proudly, showing just how determined she is not to force him to do anything he might not want to. 

Bull appreciates her giving him an out, it’s a weird situation, but this fire haired mage has given him some of the best days of his life so far, and he’s not ready to call it quits just because there is some family drama haunting her. Decision made, he lets go of her hands, and motions for Dorian to hand him part of the contract. Dorian chuckles and hands over the first hundred pages willingly. 

Persephone looks stunned for a moment and then says, “It’s in Antivian, my mother’s home tongue, that I am very rusty at, unfortunately. Dorian isn’t much better. Our lawyer friend is going to look into it on Monday.” 

Bull grunts in acknowledgment, but his eyes are already taking in the first page. Over the next hour he goes over the entire thing once, taking notes on a legal pad borrowed from Dorian, Persephone tries to read the notes, but realizes they’re in qunlat, yet another language she’d not paid as much attention to in school when she was younger. Feeling useless and adrift, she turns to the kitchen and starts throwing together a stew made from whatever she has available. When she looks up from cooking she always sees the same thing, Dorian and Bull, comparing notes, and continuing their careful dissection of the contract sent to ruin her life. Her heart squeezes in response, filling her with warmth, and gratitude, that these two amazing people are in her life, and willing to help her.

Just after she pulls a batch of biscuits from the oven, she hears a grunt come from the big kossith, followed by hasty scribbling. As she sets out dinner on the island, she catches hints of hushed conversation that quickly stop when she tells them that dinner is ready. Once everyone is washed up and perched upon a stool in front of their meal, Persephone can’t take their silence anymore.

“Well? Did you two find something?” She asks. 

Dorian and Bull look at each other, and then back at Persephone.

“Maybe? If we translated it right, there may be a couple things that can be done.” Dorian answers cautiously, clearly not wanting to get her hopes up too much.

“If you don’t mind me looping someone else in, I have a friend who is well versed in Antivian contracts, who can offer a second opinion. She’ll be quick and discreet.” Bull offers between bites of stew and roll. 

Persephone sighs and nods her head, giving Bull permission. Dinner goes by quietly, everyone’s minds occupied with the stack of paper on the coffee table. By unspoken agreement, the contract is left untouched after they’re done eating and cleaning up dinner. Dorian turns on the television and lets Bull pick the movie, while Persephone pops some popcorn. With the lights low, and the couch folded out, the trio make themselves comfortable. Persephone in the middle, snuggled against Bull, with Dorian’s feet propped across her lap. For the first time since that morning, Persephone feels grounded, and most importantly, happy.


	4. Chapter 4

Persephone wakes up in the morning feeling groggy and confused, a lingering sense of dread haunting her as she gets up off the couch, apparently still wearing her clothes from yesterday. She yawns, as her brain tries to recall the last thing she remembers, which is mostly a feeling of warmth, both emotional and physical. Her eyes scan the couch, the pile of blankets, the empty popcorn bowl, and the large stack of paper on the end table. As her brain catches up, she groans, the events of yesterday washing over her like a bucket of cold water dumped on her head. 

“Good morning, my dear!” Dorian calls out as he enters the kitchen, looking fresh faced and perky enough that Persephone feels a twinge of annoyance. Unperturbed by her sour expression, Dorian busies himself with putting the kettle on and pulling out supplies to make breakfast. Persephone frowns, noting he isn’t wearing his usual suit, but rather his favorite casual outfit, black jeans, with a sweatshirt covered in silver and black sequins that reflect the early morning light. She glances at the clock on the stove, then clears her throat to get his attention, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Dorian turns to meet her gaze, notes her expression, then goes back to prepping breakfast, before speaking over his shoulder in the matter of fact tone she jokingly calls his “older brother voice”.

“I took time off work, told them it was a family emergency. I called Merrill and she said to take however much time you need, Varric pushed back your deadlines too. So do go take a shower, your hair looks like a nug’s nest.” 

Persephone opens her mouth to make a comment, but is quickly silenced by the quelling stare he sends her way. So she settles for grumbling under her breath as she heads to her room to grab clean clothes. 

Dorian sighs once he hears her start the shower, his shoulders slumping tiredly now that Pesephone isn’t there to see him look uncertain. His stomach grumbles uneasily, upset by the lack of food, and the current of stress that has been running through his body since he’d read those awful letters yesterday. It was his own damn fault for forgetting how triggering dealing with her parents could be for him; the words of Lady Trevelyan echoing ones his mother had hurled at him in the past. The similarities between their families had been what originally brought them together in friendship, and that eventually had led to them helping each other escape the cloying chains of their toxic families. Now he values Persephone as more than a friend, she is his family by choice, and she feels the same about him, they’d had each other's backs through strife and struggles galor, no judgement, just support, for years now. The reminder of how strong their love for each other is soothes the anxiety that has been nibbling away at him since he woke up, he takes a deep breath, letting go of the tension he’d been holding, and his attention returns to cooking. 

When Persephone reenters the kitchen, her hair wet but tamed by the shower, most of the tiredness is gone, but her shoulders are still tense. She’s dressed in a favorite pair of jeans, the t-shirt Krem had given her with the Chargers’ logo on it, and her very fluffy moss green cardigan ( last year’s birthday gift from Nes). Dorian notes the comfort clothing, and adds extra butter on top of her waffles before handing them off to her. Persephone smiles at him gratefully, offering her silent thanks as she takes a seat at the counter. 

“Mera texted me with a time for the meeting tomorrow, as she is in court almost all day today. And Bull asked me to tell you he had to do something work related and then he was going to meet up with that expert of his, and he’d call you afterwards.” Dorian says, taking his spot next to her at the island, bumping his shoulder against hers in a silent sign of support. 

Persephone merely nods in acknowledgment, her mouth already full of food. They eat in companionable silence, supporting each other physically and emotionally. After breakfast, Dorian drags her outdoors for a walk to the canals near the shopping district, the fresh air doing both of them some good. Arms linked, they walk in an easy rhythm, only returning home after Persephone starts looking more like herself, eyes warm and bright once more. 

\----

“Well, Ruffles?” The Iron Bull asks.

“If you’d please be patient, I will answer you when I am ready.” She answers, her serious tone losing some weight as the corners of her eyes crinkle in reaction to the old nickname.

Bull huffs, but doesn’t interrupt her again. Arms crossed, he is tempted to pace, but Josephine’s small office is adorned with far too many delicate items on decorative shelves for him to feel safe doing so with his horns in such close proximity. The silence stretches, with only the occasional tapping of her fingers on the keyboard, or the scratching of a pen on her notepad, breaking up the monotony. After a while Josephine finally closes her laptop, and levels a long look at Bull as she steeples her fingers in front of her. 

“The loophole you found is valid. However, for it to stick, it has to be genuine, as the contract can be reenacted if the marriage is dissolved within five years, as well as receiving a heavy fine if the marriage is found to be anything other than an act of true love. My fellow Antivians may appreciate romance, but they’re still keen merchants at heart.” 

Bull grins in response, but Josephine raises a finger in caution before continuing. 

“I’d still have the lawyer look it over before making any decisions, as there could be some rather serious fallout should anything go wrong. The consequences could be dire, my friend. You’ve worked hard to establish your reputation, and should you pursue this option, it may alienate you and your company from some very influential people.”

Josephine doesn’t actually say it, but Bull gets the message, she wants him to be sure before making this choice, absolutely sure that Persephone is worth what this could cost him, as once he makes this choice (provided she agrees) there will be no going back.

He draws in a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting his brain weigh and compare everything, the risks versus the rewards, etc. He manages that for a moment, but just the thought of her name brings memories up unbidden. Her cheeks flushed as she offered him the scarf, her red hair haloing her face in the autumn sunset making her seem like she was wreathed in fire. How his heart would thump oddly every time he’d catch sight of her through their kitchen windows. The feeling of her in his arms as they danced underneath the moon. Her laughter the first time they’d gone on a date, when his horns had gotten stuck in the doorway to the little cafe because a cat had rushed out between his feet and he hadn’t wanted to step on it. Her trying to skateboard after Krem had dared her too, and failing miserably but laughing the whole time. The sight of her stretched out in his bed, fast asleep, wearing only one of his shirts, because she’d gotten cold after their lovemaking. How when she wrapped her arms around him he felt like he was home, which is a feeling he hadn’t realized he’d needed until now. How she was always doing things for him without expecting anything in return, but would get incredibly self conscious when he thanked her for all those little things. The feeling of gentle care, as she’d carefully massage his old injuries, or her fingers tracing his scars lightly, lulling him to sleep after helping ease his pain. 

Bull comes back to the present, and offers his friend a smile.

“Thank you, Josie. I really appreciate your help.” He says, tone conveying his certainty that he’s making the right choice.


End file.
